


Don't Want to Let Go

by startraveller776



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Closure, F/M, Heartbreak, Missing Scene, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-09-02 12:02:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20275591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startraveller776/pseuds/startraveller776
Summary: Missing scenes for "These are the Voyages." Trip mulls over his conversation with T'Pol in the shuttlepod.





	Don't Want to Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> **IMPORTANT:** This is a repost of an old fic. I have been startraveller776 for over 15 years on various sites, but also have gone by the usernames "Misplaced" and "MisplacedMama." If you have doubts, please contact me at misplacedmama @ gmail . com. I'll be happy to chat. :)
> 
> **A/N:** This was my cathartic way of dealing with the Star Trek: Enterprise finale. I wanted better closure for my favorite ship, Trip/T'Pol (or as we affectionately called them back in the day: TnT). This does not take into account the novels.
> 
> Special thanks to HopefulRomantic for beta-ing this back in the day. (Keep in mind this story is about a decade old and my writing abilities reflect that, even though I couldn't resist cleaning it up a little. :-P)

**DON'T WANT TO LET GO**

_"However long it may be... I believe I'm going to miss you." _

The words turned over in Trip's mind as he sat on his bunk. He didn't know what to think of his strange conversation with T'Pol in the shuttlepod. _It was probably nothing._ Trip kept pushing away the image of her vulnerable eyes that seemed to say more than her lips did. He was sure he was only transposing his human emotions onto the petite Vulcan like he always seemed to do. In a few days, the _Enterprise_ would be decommissioned and he'd be off to work in warp theory at Jupiter Station. It was only natural that he was getting a tad sentimental, and not just about his warp engines.

Yeah, it was probably nothing. An off-hand comment that should be forgotten. She likely already had.

Still, Trip couldn't help reflecting on the past six years—and the four years before that. They had gone from enemies to friends to something more. And back to friends again. All the while he'd felt as if he'd been along for the ride, having no say in the direction of his relationship with T'Pol. She always held the reins when it came to the two of them.

No, that wasn't entirely true. He'd put his foot down a few times; he'd demanded more from her and been stubborn enough to get it—once in a while, at least. 

_But not enough. I didn't fight enough for us._

Trip breathed out a sigh and glanced at the two photographs on the shelf above his desk. One was his baby sister, Lizzie, smiling with a halo of blonde hair framing her face. The other photo was of his daughter. He picked that one up, gently caressing the frame. No matter how many years had passed since her untimely death, he still got a lump in his throat whenever he thought of her. He'd thought Lizzie's death was a tragedy when she was struck down on the cusp of truly experiencing life. But Elizabeth had never had a chance. Something died inside of him along with his daughter, and he knew that T'Pol had died a little inside too.

And it didn't take long for their newly formed bond to die as well. It was funny how something that could cement a relationship, like the death of a child, could also tear it apart. Funny how something that could strengthen a relationship, like that mysterious Vulcan bond, could bring it to its knees. The grief and heartache had been too much—for both of them. Trip always thought after the pain dulled, that maybe they'd come together again, but he supposed T'Pol had other ideas.

_"Do you ever miss me?"_

That was just like her to ask such a loaded question so casually. Trip snorted at the memory. He'd fumbled for his answer, trying to sound as detached. The truth was that he missed her more than just "sometimes" as he implied. How could he tell her that every time he looked at her, he remembered their neuropressure sessions? How he remembered the way she tasted when they'd kissed, the way she moved beneath him when they made love? How he remembered the smell of those meditation candles mingled with her own exotic scent? How he had never wanted to give that up?

It just wasn't meant to be. The universe never approved of Trip and T'Pol together and kept throwing obstacles in their way until they finally got a clue. Yet, he couldn't shut off his feelings, no matter how much he hid them. He couldn't be Vulcan like T'Pol.

Trip gazed once more at his baby girl before putting the photograph back on the shelf with a sigh. Life just wasn't fair sometimes. Hell, it wasn't fair most of the time.

He glanced at the chronometer. He had three hours before he was supposed to meet Jon for drinks. Normally the thought of an evening swapping stories and getting a little smashed with the captain would coax a smile from Trip's lips, but not today.

Damn that woman!

He should get down to engineering. There had to be some manifold that had escaped cleaning. He needed to be with his girl to help him forget about that other girl he never really had in the first place.

Trip surprised himself by bursting into laughter. Thinking of T'Pol as a "girl" was ridiculously humorous. He shook his head. _Trip Tucker, you are nine kinds of fool for fallin' in love with a Vulcan!_

Standing up, Trip cast another wistful look at his Elizabeths before leaving his quarters. He was going to get nice and greasy in engineering and forget about everything. There was nothing like the gentle, pulsing hum of the warp engine to wash away the rest of the universe. Let T'Pol have her candles, Trip would rather meditate with a hypospanner any day.

As he walked to his destination, he mulled over his relationship—or lack of one—with the resident Vulcan, attempting to answer the question: Would he ever find a way to move past her, to no longer love her as more than a good friend? The only answer that came was that maybe someday he'd find someone else. Maybe then he'd be free of T'Pol. It should have been a comforting thought, but instead it made his stomach drop. It dawned on him that he didn't want to find someone else to have happily-ever-after with. And he didn't want to be just friends with T'Pol.

It wasn't enough, anymore. It would never be enough.

He turned and made his way to her quarters, well aware that if she was even there she'd most likely rebuff him. Maybe knowing they were soon to go their separate ways was giving him the courage he'd never had before. Whatever it was, he didn't care. He wasn't going to let her get away without at least knowing how he truly felt.

His newfound confidence nearly dissipated when she answered her door.

"Commander," she acknowledged him with a brow raised in surprise.

Trip had trained himself over the last six years to look at her with disinterest for the sake of their working relationship—for the sake of their friendship. But now... Now looking at her while he was blazing with every desire, every hope that he'd smothered over the years, his mouth went dry as if he were seeing her for the first time. He'd forgotten just how breathtakingly beautiful she was. He almost left without saying a word, unexpectedly overwhelmed by her presence.

"Gotta minute?" he managed to ask, internally congratulating himself on being able to speak.

T'Pol inclined her head and stepped aside to allow him entry. He took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scents of her room, recalling in vivid detail every moment he'd had with her in here. There was the spot where they had lain on the floor talking about warp mechanics while performing neuropressure postures. And there on the bed was where she had sat during their first session, chastely covering her breasts and moaning in a way that he'd never thought a Vulcan could. And there, beyond the now-closed door to the bathroom, was the shower where they had made love for the second time. Did she ever think about those things while she sat in her quarters?

"How can I help you?" T'Pol's voice brought him back to the present.

He noticed that a small trunk sat open at the foot of her bunk, half full of her personal items. "Packing already, I see," he commented, stalling as he grasped for the right way to open a difficult conversation.

She gazed back at him, wearing her patent Vulcans-don't-do-small-talk-please-get-to-the-point expression. "I prefer not to wait until the last minute."

"Sounds...logical." He gave her a half smile, unable to resist teasing her a little, even with his heart pounding so fast it threatened to break the sound barrier.

"Indeed," she replied, failing to notice joke as usual. How he missed this kind of banter!

"Is there something I can help you with, Commander?" she queried again with the slightest hint of impatience.

Trip scrubbed his fingers through his hair. _It's now or never._ He asked the question he hadn't the strength to ask in the shuttlepod. "Do you ever miss me?"

"I believe we've already had this discussion," she stated clinically.

"No, no...not exactly. You asked me if I missed you, but you never said—"

"I said that I hadn't thought about those days in a long time." 

There was a note of finality in her tone, but Trip wasn't ready to let this go just yet. "Yeah, I remember. But what about now? Do you miss me?"

She merely stared back at him, her eyes slightly widening in a way that he knew well. This wasn't going very well at all, not if she was giving him the "deer in headlights" look.

"It's not fair, T'Pol." He spoke quickly, desperately wanting to spill everything before she could say something to dash his hopes. "You can't just say nothing for six years, then just as we're about to go our separate ways decide to ask me if I've missed you—if I've missed us."

T'Pol opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off before she could make a sound.

"It's easy for you to just say things like that. Just throw it out there and leave it alone." He paused again, taking a deep breath. "After our daughter—" He choked on the words. "After Elizabeth died, I gave you your space to grieve. And when you didn't come back to me, when you weren't interested in pursuing a...a romantic relationship anymore, I respected that. It hurt like hell, but I respected it. And now, after I've gotten over it as best as I can, you throw it all in my face again." Trip leaned against the bulkhead and closed his eyes. "It isn't fair, T'Pol. You'll get over this in two seconds, but me? Now you got me thinking that maybe I don't wanna let go. Maybe I want you 'til 'death do us part.'"

He opened his eyes and looked at her. She seemed so vulnerable, far from the stoic Vulcan that she had been these last years. She also didn't look like she was ready to see all the feelings he was wearing on his sleeve right now. He sighed. So much for now or never.

"Anyway," he said, turning to leave before her response could stab him in the heart. "I guess that's what brought me here. Sorry...sorry to've bothered you." He waited a heartbeat, wildly hoping she would utter those words: _Wait, Trip!_ like she had in the corridor so many years ago. It had been music to his ears then.

He wanted to hear that music now.

She said nothing, though—just stood behind him, breathing quietly. So that was it. He was finally completely honest with her and himself—and... And _nothing_. He let out the breath he'd been holding and reached with a shaking hand for the door panel.

_No! Not this time!_

Where that inner voice came from, Trip didn't know. It was right. _Not this time, dammit!_ He wasn't going to go without a fight this time.

He turned around and in one step he was before her, pulling her petite form to him and kissing her soundly on the mouth. She tasted so good, smelled so good, felt so good. He kissed her as if he were trying to consume her, trying to make up for six years of missed opportunities in one single lip-lock.

He felt her tense body begin to melt in his arms. He was finally home again. All those years of hurt and disappointment, like a fog that had hovered over them, suddenly dissipated as if it had never been. This was where Trip belonged, where he was always meant to be, holding her, showing her how he really felt.

She clung to him tightly as if she were afraid that he'd disappear. He realized he was holding her the same way. Her lips parted and he hungrily accepted the invitation. His need for her intensified and he was losing all thought and rationale. There was only now, this moment with T'Pol. She pulled him toward the bed, still clutching him so close that he wasn't sure where he began and she ended. His heart pounded in anticipation as he realized that he finally had his answer.

She did miss him.

Just as her fingers reached for the zipper of his jumpsuit, a new fear washed over him. He broke off the kiss and held her hands in his. "T'Pol, I..." His throat felt dry. "I want to...but I can't do this if it's still gonna be a goodbye. I mean—"

"Trip," T'Pol interrupted, placing her delicate fingers on his lips. "You have made it clear what you desire from me." She drew his mouth to hers once more and began to work his uniform off.

Trip almost wanted to laugh. It was so like her to make such an ambiguous statement and act like it was the answer he was looking for. The moment of amusement passed, however, as she began to pull up his undershirt and he found himself lost once more to the moment.

He knew that tomorrow she might try to take it back, but it didn't matter. He wasn't going to let her. He was never going to let her get away again, no matter what obstacles the universe had in store for them.

* * *

_Sometime later, after they had made love with indescribable fervor and passion.... Sometime later, after he'd dressed, apologizing that he had to leave to meet the captain for drinks... Sometime later, after the intruder alert on the ship... Sometime later, after the captain summoned her to sickbay... Sometime later, after T'Pol had finally given her heart to Trip, never to be rescinded again..._

She was lying on his bed in his darkened quarters. 

What was it he had said earlier? "It's not fair." Truer words had never been spoken. He was gone. Forever. Just as she had accepted his love for her, just as they were to embark on an open relationship—he was _gone_.

_"It's not fair."_

Her whispered words sounded too loud in the empty room. T'Pol illogically wished that she were human, wished that she could freely unleash the grief, the agony, the frustration she felt inside without destroying herself. She wished she hadn't been cured of Pa'nar so she could weep. 

_"You think that the loss of a colleague or friend doesn't affect us? It does. But if we give in to those emotions, they overwhelm us. You're the ones to be envied."_

She had said those words to Trip years ago. Who would comfort her now? Who would understand that beneath her Vulcan mask was a heart that had been obliterated by the loss of so many dear to her: her mother, her daughter, and now the man she would have called husband?

She needed Trip and he was gone. It wasn't fair that he'd left her to bear the anguish alone. She hadn't wanted to let go either.

T'Pol knew that eventually she would find peace. She would find a way to understand his senseless death. She would say goodbye to Trip as she had to Elizabeth, to her mother. She would stand up, open the suitcase and begin to pack all the things that held his lingering touch. She was Vulcan, after all. 

But for now, for this moment, she wanted to experience regret for what might have been and what now would never be.

_It's not fair._

**~FIN~**


End file.
